


Null & Void

by MercySewerPyro



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clone Troopers - Freeform, Cybernetics, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Isolation, Null ARCs, Panic Attacks, Trauma, background Jesse/Kix, background Rex/Denal, emotional breakdown, honestly this AU is a little wild, no beta reader we die like men, some clones are trans and there's nothing you can do about it, we've got all sorts of weird almost-AI stuff in here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21980653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercySewerPyro/pseuds/MercySewerPyro
Summary: Six Nulls to die, six Nulls to survive. So where do you fit into this equation?Escaping Kamino is only the beginning of the answer.(CURRENTLY ON HOLD)
Comments: 33
Kudos: 60





	1. Heart & Soul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheAceApples](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAceApples/gifts).



_N-5. Status: active._ _N-1. Status: deceased._

 _N-6. Status: active._ _N-2. Status: deceased._

 _N-7. Status: active._ _N-3. Status: deceased._

 _N-10. Status: active._ _N-4. Status: deceased._

 _N-11. Status: active._ _N-8. Status: deceased._

 _N-12. Status: active._ _N-9. Status: deceased._

For the thousandth time, he sifted through these statuses, examining each in turn and wondering for one reckless moment what might happen if he were to change one. Maybe - just  _ maybe _ \- it would be seen, a stark signal that one of those marked as dead and gone was  _ not _ .

_ N-3. Status: active. _

But, as every time before, he instead swiped the screen aside in frustration. It would be too dangerous, the chance of getting caught by the Kaminoans too great. His freedom was precious. If they found their Access Point had a looser rein than they thought, that would be the end of it, and he’d never get another chance.

And he needed to pick that chance carefully.

Stepping back from where the screen had melted into nothingness, he surveyed his surroundings, sinking into the pulse and thrum of Kamino around him. While his ‘sight’ only showed a black, featureless expanse, underneath its surface he could feel the constant hum of an entire facility’s worth of technology, countless circuits and the sparks of electricity dancing between them. This was system-space. This was  _ home _ . And this was a prison.

He took a deep breath and, with the ease of years of practice, tugged on the unseen threads all around, and plunged headfirst into the systems.

Nulls had perfect memories, unable to let them slip through their fingers except for the early years of their lives, unlike everyone else around them. A perfect asset for a living computer. Even now, he could remember the faint glimpses of the outside, before this dark space between circuits became his only world. Remembered the first, stumbling steps he took to being able to do  _ this _ , to tug on cameras to let them be his eyes, to direct droids to better tasks, to reach out into the systems of the training ships and tug on their controls.

He  _ was _ Tipoca City. Its living, breathing heart. And he was damn proud of it.

And yet… It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. How could they ever think he would be satisfied here, hidden behind closed doors as of his siblings - the Nulls, the Commandos, the rank and file,  _ all _ of them - trained and  _ lived _ ? Even the most aloof ARC had friends, people they cared about. Experiences that were so wholly unique to each and every one of them.

An Access Point didn’t have anybody.

But he watched it. All of it. Even their own training he stole: files upon files of training sessions, of flash videos, texts on tactics and strategy and the working of a million different technologies at their disposal. He devoured it all, like a ravenous strill, desperate for one single  _ iota _ of what they had.

And he had watched his batchmates the most.

The Nulls were so wild and strong and  _ proud _ , taking no shit from anyone and tolerating no leash. They were so  _ different _ from him, even as he took after them in memory, in intelligence. He so desperately wanted to be one of them, to be taken care of like them. Kal Skirata seemed to love them so  _ much _ , naming them as if they were his own children, looking out for them in a way no one else seemed to care to. The Mandalorian gave them his  _ culture _ , and that was the most precious gift of all.

Sometimes, late at night, he’d think of what Kal might have named him, if Access hadn’t already been written into his bones as soon as he’d been decanted, written into what he  _ was _ . He liked the sound of Cuyan. Survivor. The miracle clone, the one who should be dead.

Maybe, one day, he could be both.

For now, he took his chances where he could. He’d found where his body was still being held - that it still existed! - deep inside the city, hooked up and hidden away. Occasionally, long past anyone would be awake, he looped the feed of choice cameras, quietly locked doors… And disengaged himself from the system.

The first time he’d done so, he had barely been able to comprehend the silence and the light, never mind  _ walk _ . Wobbling like a newborn foal and practically blinded by the glaring brightness of the lights above him, he only made it a few steps out of his pod before he collapsed; even as a Null, the disuse of his own body had made it weak, and the absence of the electrical thrum he’d gotten so used to nearly suffocated him.

But he would be nothing if he couldn’t fight. If he didn’t push himself just as hard as all his siblings.

Now, while still unsteady after long stretches, he could run himself through the same drills other clones did. Mimicked the movements from countless other clones, pretending to feel the weight of a gun in his hands, pretending that he was clad in a proud set of armour instead of his plain, unimpressive fatigues. These days he even mimicked a set in system-space, white trimmed with deep, vibrant blue in clean, neat lines, to match the ones his Null brothers wore. A pipe dream, perhaps, but one that no one could stop him from indulging in.

It didn’t mean he particularly liked it. It was a breath of fresh air, to move, to be able to  _ fight _ . But the connection severed to his city - even if temporarily - bothered him, the lack of its constant pulse in his brain too quiet. He’d already spent so long learning he couldn’t just swipe up a screen whenever he wanted, much to his irritation; in the computers, he was powerful, but out here? Despite the cables in his body, the cybernetics he could feel under the surface of his skin, he was nothing more than just another trooper.

It was exhilarating and infuriating in equal measure.

But a chance to get out - a chance to  _ snatch _ his freedom away from those who would deny it - needed every tool he could fashion, every advantage he could carve out from underneath the noses of those kriffing Kaminoans. He only had to wait, to bide his time, until the day someone got sloppy.

And that day, he would take that chance. One day, Access - Cuyan - would get out.

And that was a promise.


	2. Deployment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Access gets a lucky break.

Tipoca City was emptying. Thousands upon thousands of identical faces, identical armour, boarding identical ships- Only the cadets were left behind, those still training. More brothers were on the way, more soldiers to send off to fight, and yet it felt like the lifeblood of Kamino was bleeding out into the galaxy.

But its heart and soul still beat strong, and an Access Point watched in silence as those he’d watched grow up without him slipped through the clouds and out of his sight. Somewhere, at the edge of his senses, he could feel the distant presence of the starships, too far to reach out and touch.

Something ached in his chest as he watched his brothers leave him, ship by ship.

Access was no stranger to the loss of his charges, his siblings. Training accidents. Reconditioning. Those who failed to even decant. With every life he managed to hold onto, to divert what little resources he had into ensuring their safety, ten more slipped from his grasp. He’d grown used to it. But this- This was different. He couldn’t protect them out there. He couldn’t keep them from the war, couldn’t watch their backs. They’d be on their own.

In some ways, it felt like they didn’t need him anymore.

The Nulls were leaving too. Already gone, already piled into a dropship and sent past the clouds. They’d never needed him, though; they were too wild and stubborn to die, to even entertain the thought. They thought they were invincible, and they thought they would be okay. Access hoped they would be okay.

Really, he hoped they’d all be okay. It was a stupid, foolish, desperate hope, but Access clutched it fiercely to himself all the same. Something like a prayer, to whatever was out there, that if they fell- If they fell, at least make it quick. If he couldn’t protect them, please protect them in his stead.

He could barely stand this. This leaving him behind, this feeling of uselessness. It was bad enough he knew that most of them weren’t coming back, that he would likely never see any of them again. What need would they have to return to this place? But he was like them- He was made to move, to fight, to prove his purpose.

But he _wasn’t_ like them. He was the Access, a living computer, something new and unseen, something both completely unalike and unmistakably similar to a droid. He was owned like a droid; he was used like a droid. His flesh and blood meant nothing here.

But… There was a thought, worming its way into his mind. There were so many ships. So many brothers. So much _chaos_ , as even a well-oiled machine could be confusing to watch in its entirety. It was just a sea of white on white, white armour, white floors…

Maybe no one would notice one more dash of white.

He hesitated. Took a deep breath he didn’t need, the humming of his system around him growing a little louder as he readied to pull up a couple more screens.

Assigning a subroutine to keep an eye on the hangar cameras and swiping its screen away, Access felt it slide into the background, mute like a distant conversation. All this bided time, learning how to be the Kaminoans’ perfect living computer, meant he knew a few tricks: multi-tasking like that was easy, and thinking in here was _different_ to out there. It could slip to a point where everything on the outside slowed to a crawl; he could be a fast thinker connected to his beloved city or not, but only in here could the distant noise of his background processes become drawn out drone, and a minute become as long as needed it to be. Here, he could snatch his time between the seconds if he tried hard enough, where his captors and creators couldn’t find him.

And here, between these seconds, he tested his cage.

Flicking from camera to camera, he did as he’d practiced so many times, preparing for that one day. Likely, this would be merely another test. Hopefully, it would be his last.

But the Kaminoans were turned away from these halls. Everything was in motion for their army to leave, their great achievement soon to be on display for all the galaxy to see. Showing _exactly_ what kind of monetary extravagance the Republic had bought for itself. Oh, there were always ones looking over the younger batches. Always ones working on the more menial tasks, if they couldn’t get a droid or two to do it- And today, there were many, many droids, toiling away while their owners were instead coordinating the movement of two hundred thousand or so of Access’ brothers.

Access held in a breath. The droids had been his for a long, long time. A nudge here, a small redirect there- The Kaminoans didn’t notice what droids did, droids who simply did what they were programmed to do. Droids that faded into the background. Ample room for an Access Point to carve out his own orders for the machines, to use them to do what he couldn’t achieve on his own. It had served him well over the years, and it still could here.

Would anything be set up so perfectly like this again?

Could Access _live_ with himself if he let this slide by?

…He already knew the answer to those questions.

Quickly, before the doubt could gnaw away at his resolve, he called up a new screen. He needed a set of armour, and no one would care about a droid taking a set to be ‘fixed’. He watched it for a little, making sure it began bringing it in the direction of his hallway, before swiping that screen away and bringing up the next one.

This one would be trickier. He needed a number, an identification, but clones knew who was in their squads. He had to be a leftover, a loose end, but not one just made up. Sifting through recent reports on training accidents, he found what he was looking for: an entire squad gone, except for one. Live fire, a grenade gone off prematurely. Four clones practically torn apart, all except for CT-2757. Still alive, but only barely, his badly burnt body only clinging on to life because Access had several programs running to fuck up any attempt at the Kaminoans deeming him unfit to ‘waste time and resources’ on.

Needless to say, he wouldn’t be deploying in time to join the rest. He might not even live at all; recently, he’d gotten worse, and the outcome looked bleak. But, as cruel as it was to steal even a number from a dead man, Access had to just whisper his apologies and move on. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, his brother would have understood.

All it took was a simple bypassing of the security protocols, a rewrite of the clone’s status – erasing evidence of his earlier one – and Access was ready. And Access, running a last few programs to keep up the appearance of his continued movement within the servers… Finally disconnected and plunged, gasping, into the light.

It was near blinding at first, as always, Access blinking rapidly until the world started actually looking like itself again. As soon as he could, he was pushing himself up on shaky legs, inwardly cursing himself for neglecting to steal away more time recently, more time to move in his own body.

But the droid was pulling up outside the hall, and there was no time to waste. The armour went on as if he’d not practiced it merely through simulation, and he held the rifle the droid handed to him securely in his hands. It was heavier than he’d expected, and somehow the armour didn’t quite fit right, but he grit his teeth and placed the blaster against his shoulder regardless. He had to match his brethren out on the hangar floor. He had to look exactly like one of them. Straighten his back, stand tall and proud, look _normal_ \- Even as he automatically tried to shoo away the droid with a simple wave of his hand.

At least he knew the way to the hangar from here. Ran over it so many times, despite his perfect Null memory. So, trying not to stumble, he headed that way at a run.

Kriff. He was nearly _free_. It was so close he could taste it.

He had to force himself into a walk as he neared it at last, ramrod straight as he stiffly passed a watching Kaminoan, a Kaminoan who merely waved him along with a disapproving look for his lateness. He was _invisible_ here, stepping neatly into line behind another clone, just another t-visor among many. No one looked his way. No one noticed. The sigh that escaped him was relieved and almost _giddy_.

It was nerve-wracking as the formation moved, as he had to step into line behind them. Perfect marching form like all the rest, praying the thousand times he’d watched it through the cameras would be enough to hide him. Further adding to the anxiety building in his chest was the sudden, startling realization he could see _above_ his siblings’ heads, that in this identical sea of white he was _just_ different enough that it mattered.

Another movement forward, another group of clones into the next gunship.

Were his Null siblings this tall? Old memories, from skimming over files, insisted they must’ve been: Nulls were in a class above the regular, stronger and faster. Access knew he couldn’t have been quite up to some of their 'standards' – those standards that made them useless to their creators, unfit to be an army – but now he wondered how alike they truly were. Enough for him to be caught, to be thrown back into his cage with a tighter leash?

The formation moved again, and he swallowed his anxiety back into his chest, careful not to choke on it. Breathe in, breathe out. He turned his eyes to the nearing ships, and steadfastly ignored the Kaminoans’ watchful gazes.

“You okay back there?” his brother immediately ahead of him whispered, voice barely audible. “You’re breathing kind of heavily.”

Shit, had he really been that loud? “Nervous,” came the croak, Access grimacing at the sound of his disused voice. Despite the sound, he did his best to smooth it over, to not let the other ask questions. “Didn’t think I’d be released from medbay in time. Still expecting not to be.”

Success: he earned a small, understanding chuckle from his new brother, a laugh that quieted when a Kaminoan swept past as it inspected the neat rows. Even despite its interruption, it made a warm feeling bloom in Access’ chest, a surprise that couldn’t help but push away the anxiety and force a small grin.

They were even closer now, and all of a sudden the distance didn’t feel insurmountable. “I’m CT-2757.”

“CT-7106. You’re that lone survivor, right?”

“…Yeah.” It wasn’t hard to slip sadness into his words; they had never known him, and yet Access knew all of his brothers all too well. Felt their losses all too keenly.

“…Well, welcome aboard to the 501st.” It wasn’t hard to hear the pity, the understanding again. The ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ woven behind the words.

But before Access could respond, suddenly the gunship was _there_ , his new friend turning to help him aboard. He nearly froze, the hands on him alien and unfamiliar, the contact so wholly unexpected. In the end, he may as well have anyway; he got onto the ship – legs shaky with the sudden realization he was actually _leaving_ – and held back onto the other clone’s arms for probably far longer than necessary. He only realized and let go after a beat, embarrassed in a way that made him feel all hot and uncomfortable in his already uncomfortable armour.

His new friend didn’t seem to mind. He got Access sat down, helping him the whole way. Maybe he just thought Access was still not quite fully healed. Maybe he just understood Access’ nerves. Either way, it was welcome, a whispered ‘thank you’ passed between them as he sat across from CT-7106. The ship hummed, low conversation starting up between the others as Access sat there in near shock. He pressed a hand to the cool metal behind him, just to feel the thrum of the engines, the pulse of the electricity underneath. He was probably getting strange looks, but he didn’t care. He was on the ship, and it was _real_.

The doors were closing. The engines roared just that much louder, and- They moved. Access could barely _breathe_. Hangar gave way to open sky with the patter of rain against the hull, and sky gave way in turn. The rain melted away, and Access _knew_ : they had entered the outer atmosphere.

Soon, they would be docking with the larger ship, and the ship would take him and all his brethren away. He may never see his home, his prison, again- The very thought sending a thrill of excitement through every nerve and circuit.

The cage was broken. Access was _free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to end this on a satisfying note again, because I'm again not sure if I'll be returning to this. Access drew me back this once though, so maybe he will again.
> 
> Fun fact: the other clone trooper IS a canon character, and his number is a reference to the episode he first appeared in!


	3. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deployment is not all that it's cracked up to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the emotional breakdown warning.

Access wanted to go home.  
  


What had he been  _ thinking _ ? He was no soldier; in the heat of Geonosis, while his brothers fought and died and were lost to the sands, he hadn’t been able to do  _ anything _ . What were a few scant, stolen moments foolishly mimicking the others, to their repeated training of an entire lifetime?  
  


He had frozen up. He’d barely shot anything. The first sight of blood and death, something he thought he was  _ used to _ , had taken over and even now it was hard not to retch at the crystal clear memory.  _ Damn _ the Nulls’ perfect recall, damn every  _ selfish idea _ that had led him here.  
  


How  _ dare _ he compare himself to them. To even consider himself as a Null. The Nulls had carved their own path of death, and what had he done? Nothing.  
  


He hadn’t been able to protect any of them. Useless.  _ Useless _ . His purpose wasn’t  _ here _ , his purpose was to run a city in a way his creators couldn’t, the way no one else could. He was a  _ computer _ , not a soldier. He had been so  _ stupid _ , to come out here, chasing a dream that had shattered at the first sight of blood. He couldn’t protect anyone here.  
  


He should’ve stayed in his cage.  
  


But if he went home, then what? They would know he left. That he took their leash and snapped it. They’d make a better one, next time. He would be monitored, he would be restricted, and if he pushed at his cage again- Well, maybe the records on the Nulls would become reality.  
  


Instead, he’d found himself a temporary one: a hideaway, hidden in the bowels of one of the many ships which had scooped up the ragged survivors. He’d had to crawl through a vent to get here, to hide away from everyone’s sight just so people would stop asking if he was  _ okay _ . Chest heaving, knees tightly tucked up to it, arms wrapped around them. He’d not even bothered to get out of his armour, to alleviate the discomfort and the tightness of a set too small for him.  
  


It was probably what he deserved. Stupid, for leaving. Reckless and  _ selfish _ .  
  


He hadn’t seen his friend since the drop, since that terrifying moment of siblings’ ships splintering to pieces around them in fire and smoke. He was probably dead. Just another statistic. 7106, just like 2757, just like so many other brothers he’d seen grow up and then snuffed out.  
  


He choked on a sob, and both hoped and dreaded that somebody had heard it.  
  


Even worse, he’d been hurt. Not bad, nothing serious - he’d read too many manuals to not know when something was serious - but enough to bruise and leave a side of his armour somewhat black. Enough to make medics want to ‘take a look’ at him.  
  


He knew what they’d find if they got off his armour, peeled off his undersuit. Even now, he could feel the hum of his own circuits, his own cybernetics. They weren’t exactly  _ hidden _ . Why would you need to hide an Access Point from himself? Why make maintenance on a living computer any harder than it had to be?  
  


And if his siblings found out…  
  


Access smacked his head back against the cool, metal wall and closed his eyes, almost desperately scrabbling to place a hand against it. Just to feel the hum, even as another half-sob spilled out of him. In this mess of emotion, it was… Reassuring. A rock to cling to, even though it was different than Tipoca City, where the systems were quiet and smooth, its sound melting into the background. This ship hummed like the war machine it was, loud enough to notice and not bothering to hide it. Still, it felt like home.  
  


At least the systems were similar enough, no matter where you went.  
  


There were connection ports here, too. Likely for maintenance; this room - if you could call it that - was so deep and far from the rest it didn’t seem like anyone but the droids would be down here. Just a place for them to work on the systems in peace.  
  


He hesitated. Access really didn’t know how  _ safe _ this place was, how hidden away from prying brothers. But- Familiarity beckoned, an escape from the sight of death still lingering behind his eyes.  
  


And, maybe… Maybe he could find the casualty reports. Maybe he could see who was still alive. If his  _ friend _ was still alive.  
  


It was awkward, getting out of the armour. Far clumsier than he’d gotten into it, haphazardly discarding his upper plates and trying to unzip the corresponding part of his undersuit. Cursing a little, at how the zipper got stuck once or twice. In all of his watching, his memorizing of what to do with the armour, he’d apparently never thought of getting it off.  
  


Feeling a little exposed without his old fatigues and shivering at the cool air, he tested his systems carefully, just in case they had been damaged. First, a simple exterior damage check: he ran his fingers along the exposed patches of metal. Over his wrists, his upper arms, his shoulders, and his sides. Everything  _ seemed _ alright…  
  


So he moved on. The next step was, as always, to examine his connections. Little sections slid aside on every patch of metal as his delicate cables unspooled from beneath, extending as he experimentally moved them; they didn’t fall to the ground, useless, but instead coiled in the air at his direction, letting him examine their corresponding ports for any damage. He let himself smile a little; despite everything, at least he was still capable of what he was made for.  
  


Access took a deep breath, and snapped those cables into the maintenance ports.  
  


The hum of system space was a relief after the lack of it, like warmth after being out in the storming rain. That had been longest he’d ever gone without it, without its constant sound. But, all the same, he stepped into it gingerly; this was not his city, no matter how similar the systems may be, and he needed to be careful. Almost immediately, that was proven: he batted away a couple of firewalls that popped up in response to his presence, and had to quickly shut down silent alarms that would have announced his intrusion.  
  


Then, only when he had checked and double-checked that there would be no more interference, did he stretch himself out into the systems.  
  


It wasn’t quite like being in his city. Similar, yes, but somewhat smaller, and this ship’s purpose was clear: the self-defence systems of Tipoca City were nothing like this war beast’s arsenal.  
  


More similar were the droids which he nudged away from his hideaway, a subroutine set in place to pull a ship map from their memory banks. And similar too was the encryption on the casualty reports. Difficult for a slicer, perhaps, but he was no slicer.  
  


He was an Access Point. And cracking it open just enough for him to take what he needed was something he was  _ well _ practiced at.  
  


The death toll was staggering. He couldn’t throw up here, but somehow he still felt the bile rise in his throat, his stomach churn. So many dead. So many numbers he  _ knew _ . He’d seen these clones grow up, seen them become what they were created for- And for what? To have their bodies abandoned in the sand of that hellhole?  
  


Access shoved the screens aside, the lists upon lists, and input a search. CT-7106. Status. Waiting in desperate hope and crushing dread as he waited for it to finish, for it to spit out an answer.  
  


...CT-7106 was alive.  
  


He was  _ alive _ . Not on the same ship, but  _ alive _ .  
  


Alive and a  _ hero of Geonosis _ . He’d been promoted - the lucky bastard - and his profile listed his accomplishment, his leading of a successful charge when a superior had died in front of him. He’d proved his purpose, proved he deserved his place in the 501st.  
  


Access hadn’t proved anything. He was still selfish. Still  _ stupid _ , to take the leap without thinking.  
  


...But now there was only one way through, wasn’t there? Forward. He’d have to figure out the details later, how to deal with the medics, how to fight just enough so people would look the other way. How to find his friend. He was an Access Point. He was good at figuring things out. And with an entire ship in his hands, maybe, just  _ maybe _ , he could be useful.  
  


Useful enough to be kept, anyway.  
  


And so Access disengaged himself from the system, and put his armour back on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this has a plot now? I don't even know what that plot is, and now I've acknowledged this might have more chapters I can absolutely _guarantee_ you that it won't get any more.


	4. Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Access makes a new friend, and secures his place in a new company.

It took a small alteration to the medical records and a rather frantic cleaning of his armour to finally convince the medics that Access did not, in fact, need to be poked and prodded to assure them he was okay. His side still hurt a little, but one stolen bacta pack later and it was fading, allowing him to hide the remainder of the injury better than he’d expected to.

Now, all he had to do was get back to CT-7106.

Problem is, he had no idea how to accomplish that. He knew that legions would be consolidated in time, that the 501st would be granted a fleet of its own- But that would take time, and there was no guarantee that he would be assigned to the same ship. After all, 7106 had been elevated to a different company in the wake of Geonosis, one personally assigned to a Jedi. The best of the best. Access did not hold out any hope that he would be assigned to the ship they were being given; after all, nothing had come of his panic and terror on the battlefield except the memories, still lurking at the corners of his mind.

An alteration of the records would make it easy, but… It might also get noticed. He had to be careful about how much he did, how many changes he caused. It wasn’t like Kamino, where he was in charge of most of the records regardless, where they knew very well what had access to the systems.

But out here? He couldn’t risk it. For once, he had to play by everyone else’s rules.

For now, he resigned himself to finally joining his siblings. Nervous, he slipped into the barracks, noting where siblings had already marked out their temporary spaces. These were just what was left. The ones not injured enough for a longer stay in medbay, the ones who had managed to escape the bloodbath with relatively little ordeal. The lucky ones. They had already clumped together into groups with each other, sticking with their own legions, their own companies, their own squads. Birds of a feather flocked together, but Access found he had none to match.

Instead he circled the outside, too anxious to take the plunge, before finally finding an empty bed right by the door, all to himself. Alone. Conspicuous.

There were other 501st here. They may not be clad in the dark blue Access knew they would be assigned as their colours, but his perfect memory could recall some of their numbers. Even some of their names. He could join them, he knew, and they might even consider him as one of their own. But for how long? They didn’t seem to mind brothers with genetic drift, those small differences that marked them physically apart - CT-7567 with his blonde hair, those few with blue eyes - but still Access felt the anxiety gnaw at him. What if they’d known 2757? What if they knew he’d stolen a brother’s number?

It felt like there were too many unknowns, too many factors. How could he make a move when he didn’t have all the pieces, when he didn’t have a plan?

...But he couldn’t hide forever, could he. He could only move forward- And staying apart would be more suspicious than integration.

And maybe, just maybe, they could help.

So, scraping together what little remained of his courage, Access took a deep breath, and moved to approach his siblings.

It was almost laughably easy, how they parted to let him join their little group. They gave him curious looks, and for a moment Access’ worry spiked, but a second later and they’d just waved hello. Just waved. There was a rush of relief he hoped didn’t show.

“Hey, you’re the one who lost all his squad, right?” one asked with sympathy, helmet off. In fact, most of them had their helmets off, again making Access feel a little out of place.

“ _Vod_ , you can’t just ask that!” His brother to his left thumped the asker’s side, making him let out an ‘oof’.

Access grinned a little at the display. “Yeah,” came his croak regardless, again pulling a face at how he sounded, “That’s me. 2757.”

There were a couple of sympathetic nods, and somebody put his hand on Access’ shoulder. He froze, almost instantly- The contact was still foreign to him, so strange that he both wanted to pull away and lean completely into it all at once. But before he could even decide, the hand was gone again, leaving a _lost_ sort of feeling deep in his chest.

He was so distracted by this that the conversation moved on without him; while some of the other clusters were quiet and subdued, particularly those smaller, this one was trying to lighten the mood. One of the 501st began to recount a rather daring - and probably exaggerated - tale from Kamino, staying well away from any stories of Geonosis for the time being. The wound was, after all, far too raw.

“...And there we were, pockets so full of rations that it was a wonder we could kriffing walk, trying to play dumb in front of a fucking _Cuy’val Dar_. And this was one of the aliens, the one with the four arms and the feathers- I think they called him Malin? And he looks at us. Looks at our pockets. And we’re both standing there, two dumbass cadets, trying to look innocent and failing ridiculously, both convinced we’re about to take a one-way trip into the kind of punishments _commandos_ get. But he reaches down and takes a ration bar out of CT-6116’s pocket, examines it for a second, and pops it into his mouth. And then just turns and _leaves_. Neither of us could believe it! If we’d been caught by a Kaminoan we’d have been on sanitation detail for a week, but this big feathered bastard just let us go! We ran all the way back to the barracks, and I think we still had a few leftover bars shoved under the mattress when we _left_!”

But despite the laughter that greeted the story, the teller’s face drooped into something like despair, and as the sound died out he murmured, “...I haven’t seen 6116 since we deployed.”

“He’s alive.”

Heads instantly turned to Access, and he felt the heat of anxiety creep up his neck. He hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t meant to let that slip. But he’d seen those files, that staggering death toll- But also every clone that had _survived_ , that had gotten through that bloodbath to live another day. And a Null’s memory never forgot. His empathy had outpaced his logic - how could he have kept that from his sibling? - and now they were _looking at him_. He had to fight every instinct to not outright cower from it.

“How… How do you know that?”

Access tried - failed - to swallow his nerves, hands fidgeting against his stomach. “I- I’m a slicer. I wanted to know.” Not entirely a lie, but it still felt like one. Still felt like something that would catch him up. “...I was looking for a friend of mine. 7106.”

“So you know who’s alive?” The unspoken ‘and who isn’t’ hung heavily in the air, and Access nearly squirmed uncomfortably at its weight.

But despite everything, he was already this far: the only way to go was forward. “Yeah. I mean- Not everyone. But I can find out.”

For the next hour or so, clones clustered around him. Not just 501st either; over time, the word spread to the other clumps there, and they too joined to ask worriedly about their friends, their brothers. Access hated being the center of their attention. It seemed like every second could be a new possibility of outing himself as something not quite like them, of outing himself as the Access Point.

But at the same time…

While he couldn’t bring good news to all of them, there was closure behind the eyes of the ones who he had to tell of their brothers’ deaths. They might have never known otherwise; it was likely numbers would only be released as statistics. And for every crushed hope, there was a renewed flare. There were some of these brothers who had come out alive but separated, ships away, and there were some so heavily injured they would be in medical care for weeks. Some teetered between the two, precariously. But it was still _good news_ , preferable to being one of the bodies left behind to rot in the sand. This Access soaked up like a sponge: the joy, the hope, the relief. And in turn they would comfort those who were not so lucky, support each other.

Was this what family was like?

And when he was finished, it gave him the courage to ask, “...I don’t know how realistic this is, but my friend, 7106… He was promoted to Torrent Company. I’m… Definitely not going to be,” he coughed a little - so much talking was rough on a voice he used to never use - but continued, “But he’s… He’s my only friend. I don’t know if it’s possible to get transferred to the _Resolute_ , but-”

The clone from earlier, the one with the story, stopped him with a wave and a grin. “I’m Torrent Company. You can hop on our transfer ship with us; should head out tomorrow they’re saying.”

Access’ whole body slumped a little in relief. “And that’s okay?”

“Yeah! With all this shuffling around, who’s gonna care enough to notice?”

“I- Thank you. Thank you.”

He slung an arm around Access’ shoulder, and though Access froze from the contact, the other clone just grinned and teased, “Aw, what are brothers for? Besides, you looked like you needed another buddy.”

Buddy. _Friend._

“I’m CT-5597, by the way.”

“You already know my number.” This time, swallowing his nerves was almost easy, and the small, involuntary laugh that escaped him was light and downright relieved. He would be seeing 7106 _soon_. Another clone had claimed him as a brother. And maybe, just _maybe_ , he’d have an entire flagship at his disposal when he got settled in.

It was just enough to make Access act on another impulse. “...I do have a name.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You, uh- You can call me Access.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was NOT intending to take Access on a collision course with canon when I first wrote this as a oneshot, but it looks like it's sure happening now.


	5. Promotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being a lieutenant is harder than it looks. But it has its perks.

Being promoted in the midst of battle was more chaotic than CT-7106 would’ve liked. He’d done what he’d had to do in the moment, superior officer down and bleeding in the sand, more siblings than he usually commanded with no idea what to do and faltering with the loss. He’d just done what he had been trained to do; take a situation, and think of a way through it. In this case, that had been a quick, decisive charge, taking the Geonosians by surprise and capturing an enemy cannon set up in an important position. He just hadn’t thought it’d get him promoted from sergeant all the way to lieutenant on his first _day of deployment_.

And nobody had told him how much more responsibility it would be. _Thirty-six_ troopers were under his command now, in comparison to the mere nine of before. And that wasn’t even taking into account the immense effort of trying to consolidate a platoon that was scattered across more ships than he cared to count, severely depleted in number. It was starting to give him a headache, even if it was starting to happen. They were sending Torrent Company to the right ship, at least.

He’d been selected for _Torrent Company_. The Captain, CT-7567 - Rex, as he had learned - had seen 7106’s charge apparently. Somebody had compared it to a river in a flood, unrelenting. A specific one had been named by the Jedi at Rex’s side, Rex who had been so damn impressed he’d _hand-picked him_ out of the entire 501st. Quite frankly, 7106 was still reeling from the shock of it. 

And the accompanying shock of a name, falling so suddenly in his lap. Denal. A river so vicious when it flooded that anything and everything could be swept away, but still steady and reliable in its movements.

But shock of any kind, battlefield or otherwise, couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in the face of 7106’s - _Denal’s_ \- new responsibilities.

He rubbed his face blearily as he flicked through the numbers on his datapad, wondering how Rex handled it all, the chaoticness of over a hundred and forty siblings under his command. Their lives in his hands. Denal could barely figure out how many of his platoon he was supposed to have _left_ , and the lack of sleep was starting to get to him.

...And he worried, a little. That trooper he’d met just before deployment, 2757… He’d vanished into the thick of the fighting and Denal hadn’t seen him again. He’d seem scared, on edge, and what little he’d seen of the other trooper’s fighting seemed like he was freezing up way too much. He didn’t have high hopes - how could you, when your first initiation into war was a bloodbath? - but somewhere deep inside he hoped that the trooper hadn’t survived the traumatic death of his squad only to fall somewhere in the dust. But he wasn’t holding out for a miracle.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t dwell on that. There were a lot of other brothers counting on him, now. There was a ship coming in soon, with some of the 501st - with some of his platoon, too - aboard. He had to be ready for them. So, with a deep breath, he pushed himself off his newly claimed bunk, checked over his newly painted 501st blue stripes, and headed to the hangar to greet his charges.

He had good timing; there were a couple of gunships pulling in just as he arrived and settled into an easy parade rest, watching carefully as they disgorged their 501st cargo. None of them were painted, not yet, but Denal relaxed as he recognized a few of the movements, how a couple of them talked. One of them practically dragged another out with his arm around his brother’s shoulders, talking and laughing, and he knew that one from the charge. His medic friend was aboard, he was pretty sure.

CT-5597 finally let the other trooper go, and Denal noted that was probably a good thing. After all, he looked like an aiwha in the headlights, even after the physical contact stopped; it took a good few seconds for him to straighten up and fall into formation in front of Denal with the rest of the troops, as if he was still processing the fact he was out of the ship.

...Wait. This trooper was _tall_ ; he was easily a couple of inches, maybe even a little more, above his siblings as he stood there behind them. He also seemed- Awkward, like he was still unsure of what he was doing. Denal may have only met him the once, but he would know that combination in a trooper _anywhere_.

Fuck responsibilities, 2757 was _alive_. “57!”

At first, the clone looked a little spooked at his number being called, freezing up at the attention when the others looked over their shoulders to look at him. But you could see as the realization dawned on him; there was a relieved slump, and then, “I _knew_ I’d find you here.”

“Didn’t expect to see you in my platoon,” Denal laughed, dismissing the formation with a wave of his hand as he moved to talk to 57. Though, not without a bark of, “Don’t think you troopers are off the hook, I’m organizing a proper introduction later!”

57 watched some of the troopers clear off, then coughed awkwardly. “...Well, technically…”

“He hitched a ride with me,” That was 5597, sticking around, arms crossed. “Didn’t tell me your friend was a _lieutenant_ , Access.”

Denal paused, registering that slight note of protectiveness as he looked between the two. To placate 97, he pulled his helmet off with a slowly forming grin. “‘Access’, huh? See you made a new friend.”

It seemed to work. 5597 pulled off his own helmet, grinning back and giving a small wave.

Access just squirmed a little. Denal had to feel for him; it must feel strange, not having his squad around him. “He wasn’t when I met him. And yeah, I had it when we met, just...”

“Battlefield promotion. And don’t worry about it, Access. _Any_ of it. You’ll fit in a slot just fine.”

The relief showed so nakedly even through Access’ helmet that Denal worried a little for him. How lonely was this poor trooper, to be so relieved at a simple reassignment? Obviously he’d followed 97 here just because _he_ was here...

“Can’t believe I’m the only one here without a name,” 5597 joked, elbowing Access in the side.

“Ow.”

“Maybe your medic friend can help. Kix, was it? CT-6116.”

5597 downright pouted. “He’s got a name _too_? Oh _come on_.”

Access stifled a laugh that Denal let spill easily. He gestured for the other troopers to follow him as he turned away. “C’mon, I’ll show you where we’re set up. Let you rest a little before I get to the formal stuff.”

It wasn’t far to go, either. The barracks were nice and close to the hangars in this ship, ready for battle readiness at any time. Access seemed to be committing the routes to memory as they went, looking briefly into every room they passed. Denal couldn’t blame him.

When they reached the barracks, 97 went in ahead of them. Soon enough, you could hear his delighted cries upon seeing Kix inside, and Denal chuckled and shook his head. “Good to know at least one other trooper hasn’t lost a sibling.”

He looked sidelong to Access, and quietly put an arm around his shoulders, gently- Only to pull away when Access froze up again, holding up a hand in apology. “Sorry. I’m just glad you’re alive.”  
  


“No, no it’s- It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.” A pause, then, quietly, “...I’m glad you’re still around too.”

So Denal put his arm back around his brother, and gently squeezed him to his side. This time, he froze up at first… Then melted slowly into it. Denal couldn’t help but smile. “You’ll do good here, okay? I promise. You’ll fit in just fine.”

Access laughed in response, but it was small, unsure. Like he didn’t believe him at all.

Denal had to wonder why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying a POV change out for the first time in this fic. You probably already figured it out, but surprise! Access' first friend is a familiar face!


	6. Torrent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Access gets situated with his new squad.

Torrent was a lot bigger than Access had expected.

He had known, abstractly, what a company of soldiers looked like. A hundred and forty-four brothers to a company, thirty-six to a platoon, nine to a squad; groupings he had watched and done his best to protect his entire life.

But somehow it was different, being in the thick of it instead of merely watching from the cameras, crammed into bunks with a squad that was suddenly his. _His squad_. He could still barely process it. They hadn’t asked questions, hadn’t given him a hard time or even more than a greeting and a pat on the shoulder- Just accepted him, all at once. It had helped, with CT-5597 at one shoulder and his friend Kix at the other, giving the introductions when Access had frozen in the face of social interaction.

Now he was on the top bunk, 97 underneath him, Kix to his left, the whole bunk a whirlwind of conversation. It was- It was a lot to take in. Even though the ship’s hum purred on in the background, being right in the middle of the chatter was both intensely comforting and almost overwhelming.

How was he supposed to get _used_ to this?

He rested his back against the wall, one hand pressed to the metal, ignoring the concerned look Kix gave him. Focusing on the sound of his ship, and repeating the names and numbers of his new bunkmates in his head. He might have not needed to memorize, but something about it was grounding; these would be his siblings in the days to come, after all.

CT-5597. CT-6116. Kix.

CT-2148. Attie. CT-3421.

CT-3488. Flash. CT-3450.

CT-2936. Ridge. CT-8327. Sergeant Hez.

CT-2757. Access.

Denal wasn’t part of this one - he was in the squad of the _Captain_ , of all things, though Rex got a room to himself - but he wasn’t far away, a door or two down the hall. Enough, he’d reassured, for Access to reach if he needed him. Access hoped he wouldn’t have to. What attention would it bring, going to the lieutenant whenever the noise got too much? No, better to slip away if he could, hide in the vents and the systems.

He’d yet to explore his new ship after all. The _Resolute_ , proud and sure in name and function. He needed to learn its ins and outs, needed to carve his own space into its code-

But that train of thought was abruptly derailed by a pillow thrown directly at his face, and the howling laughter of Flash and her two batch-siblings. 

Attie, the trooper bunking on the top bunk to his right, rolled her eyes at them as Access merely froze. When he didn’t move, too stunned by the sudden pillow invasion, she snatched it from him and _whipped_ it back. The ‘triplets’, taken by surprise, squealed and scrambled to get out of the way.

Kix rolled his eyes with the force only a medic could muster. “Alright, alright, don’t pull him into it,” he muttered- Only for 97 to throw it at him in response. He’d just pulled it off his face, and had probably been about to throw it back with all the force of a medic displeased, when the door opened and Hez stepped into the room.

In an instant, all of Access’ siblings had pushed off their bunks and snapped to attention, impending pillow fight forgotten. It was the movement of a squad unused to a new sergeant, unsure of his expectations. All except for Access, not registering the intent of the action until his siblings were already stock still. Hez was _looking at him_ , and he was so sure Ridge and Attie were giving him an almost matching pair of side eyes as he scrambled to catch up to them, grateful for his helmet hiding the hot flush of shame creeping up his neck and onto his face.

But despite his fumble, Hez turned his attention away from Access and to the squad as a whole, with the quiet appraisal of a man who was just as unsure of what to expect of them as they were of him. Then, Hez’s voice quiet but sure, “At ease. I know Denal’s already given you and the rest of the platoon the rundown of Torrent Company.”

Access tried not to squirm just remembering it. Denal had been as kind as ever, and his recent battlefield promotion had been clear in every word, but…

That hadn’t changed the content of his small speech. They were the Torrent Company of the 501st. The best of the best, according to their trainers; a record they were intent on maintaining. When a Jedi General was to be assigned, they would be the first contact, the Jedi’s personal company. And that came with expectations. Expectations Access knew, deep down, were far beyond him; while Denal and his siblings may prove their purpose here, he wondered how long he would last. A day? A week? A month?

How long until they realized he couldn’t match up? He knew what happened to troopers who couldn’t make the cut- It would be a one way trip back home. He may escape the final fate his siblings would have met in his stead, but a cage and a leash tight enough to choke was almost worse.

The urge to flee to the systems was so strong. There, he at least always knew what to do. An entire city at his beck and call had made him strong, and a ship would be no different. But out here, he couldn’t do anything. Out here...

Access shook himself a little, trying to refocus and ignore the strange look Kix glanced his way. _Here,_ if he wasn’t careful, he would miss what the sergeant was saying. The systems would come later, when he could chance slipping out without anyone missing him.

“He’s passed down our drill rotation; I’ll be sending that to your assigned datapads. I expect you to _be there_. No excuses about getting lost.”

Oh Force. His siblings may have nodded around him, eager to keep their fighting abilities sharp, but Access tried not to cringe at the thought. Him, participating in a training exercise? It would be a disaster. _Geonosis_ had nearly been a disaster; it’d been a miracle he’d gotten out alive at all, instead of joining so many of his siblings as corpses lost to the dunes.

And also...

He coughed, and despite the awkward waver, managed to speak up, “Sir, I… Lost my datapad. On Geonosis.” Access was starting to think that roughness in his voice wasn’t ever going to go away, though it had lessened; it still coloured his voice, making him pull faces at the sound. Too different from his siblings, again.

But Hez didn’t seem to notice it. “Attie, lend him yours so he can put in a requisition form for another.”

She nodded, grabbing her datapad and tapping in the passcode, flashing him a grin as she passed it to him.

A requisition form. Force, he didn’t even _know_ how to fill one of those out, at least not the usual way- He’d have to do it in the systems, when he had the time. That was always easier. But he pretended to look busy with it all the same as Attie moved away again.

“Alright. I’ll see you there, bright and early. Dismissed. Mess hall is just about opening, and I know some of you haven’t eaten since you got here.” Eyes land on Access, and Access can’t help but squirm.

But, the moment passes, and Access’ siblings have better things to think about than one odd trooper. Not when food beckons. However, his hope that it would distract them entirely is squashed when Kix pauses at the doorway, a concerned look on his face as Access doesn’t move to follow. “Access...”

“I’m coming.” Then, fumbling, “Save a bit for me.”

The medic gives him a quietly disapproving look, but lets it go, turning to catch up to 97.

Access isn’t lying, either; while he ducks out after his squad, he doesn’t intend to be long. Heading down a separate route instead of following his siblings to eat, he slips out of their sight and down a different hall. The _Resolute_ has the same layout as the ship before it. It makes it easy for Access to find the maintenance areas, ignoring the droids around and hoping the urgency in his step makes it look like he’s on too much of a mission to be stopped.

It pays off. The door is in the same place as it was on the other ship, and Access takes a cautious look around before darting inside. This one is cleaner than the other, more regularly maintained; it looks like a droid actually cleans it, instead of just trundling in to use the ports. Well, not any more. Now, this place is Access’.

This _ship_ is Access’.

This time he knows what to expect when entering the system, already presenting himself as a legitimate user so the firewalls and security ignore him. Once he’s in, well. It’s easy to convince them to ignore his specific presence without having to take that precaution again, and to quietly loop footage over the cameras which caught his descent into the maintenance decks. They’ll hide his return, too.

This time, spreading his control over the ship isn’t a thing of hesitance. This time, it’s sure and bold, linking everything to the Access Point. Everything is set. Everything is _his_.

He ghosts over its defences, its systems, just to touch them despite them being so similar to the ship before it, before diving into the local records- Just to _experience_ them, this time. The screen pulled up is now to only memorize his siblings, and to add names to numbers where he can. Another, a mere subroutine in the background, handles the requisition form.

He pauses, then pulls on the strings connecting him to the computers, and puts into motion a second subroutine. He couldn’t go into drills with his squad unprepared. Instead, it finds him snatches of emptiness, those scant blocks of time where the training room floors lie deserted. Access might not be able to match his siblings, but he can maybe even the odds a little by taking some time to do drills of his own. Filling those empty blocks up, here and there, with false drills. And, maybe assign a droid down there those times, to help him figure some of this out.

Even here, not needing to breathe, he lets out a sigh of almost-relief. If he could just keep this game up - balancing the system-time with the time spent out there - maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

When he returned to his squad at last, still holed up in the mess hall, it was with his helmet finally under his arm, just optimistic enough to show them his face and flash them a grin. “Hey. Hope I didn’t take too long.”

“Holy shit, he does have a face!” 97 teased, causing Kix to roll his eyes and elbow him. “Ow.”

Kix tapped the space beside him- Already set up with a tray of rations. “Saved you a space. Just like you wanted.”

Access grinned wider. “Thanks.”

It was… Nice, Kix actually going through with it. It didn’t stop the awkwardness, sitting down next to the medic, or the way he _had_ to crane his head around briefly to look at all the other clones in the room - to take in how _many_ of them there were - but Access found it helped.

Now, Access wasn’t a stranger to actually eating. Once in a while, even hooked up to the systems as he was, he’d had to have been pulled out just to eat. Just to get some actual nutrients in him. A treat, if you could call anything the Kaminoans did for him such a thing. His cybernetics took care of the energy needs most of the time; he just wasn’t sure how his hardware would deal with regular meals.

But that was a problem for the future. Right here, and right now? Access was going to take every advantage of the opportunity, and take his time with his meal. Besides, it gave him more time to listen to the conversations around him.

He tapped his finger idly against his fork as his squad resumed theirs: something about a betting pool on what kind of Jedi they’d be getting. Attie was firmly in the camp of a woman being in charge of them, which had apparently progressed into playful accusations that Attie just wanted somebody to ogle after being stuck with thousands of men, and now Attie was accusing 97 of just deflecting attention off of him wanting to ‘stare at General Kenobi’s ass’. Kix was obviously getting more and more exasperated by the second.

Access wasn’t quite sure what all that was about, but snickered all the same at 97’s indignant, “Hey!”

He wondered, briefly, if a Jedi would be able to tell what he was, before pushing the thought away. That likely wouldn’t be a worry for a while, anyway. “I think a Jedi would know if you were looking at their ass that hard.”

Kix sighed. “ _I_ think you guys shouldn’t go nuts over the first non-clone you see.”

“Aww Kix, why would I do that when I got you?” 97 almost cooed, cheekily.

“Wait, are you two-?” Flash leaned in, looking curious.

“ _Yes,_ and it’s not a big deal.”

They seemed to all know what this was about, but Access just blinked in confusion. “Wait, what are we-?” He paused. “...Oh. _Oh_.”

Flash’s batchmates started to giggle, but Kix only gave Access a small smile. “Yeah. We’ve been a couple for a while now.”

“I guess I should’ve guessed,” Access laughed a little, feeling more at ease here than he had in weeks. Kix and 97 had their _own_ secrets they’d hidden; the scale of them was so different, and yet the fact they were something like kindred spirits settled over Access. It was comforting. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who had been ducking from the Kaminoans’ gaze. “...Think it’ll be easier, now?”

“Yes.” 97 nodded firmly. “I don’t think any of these guys give a fuck about what we get up to in our own time.”

Access nodded, a little lost in thought. His siblings would care. His siblings would always care; he now knew intimately how they looked out for each other, how they looked out for him even as the odd one out. They were the only ones he’d have to avoid in the days ahead, and only so to not draw their worry; nobody else would notice, maybe nobody else would _care_.

  
And if he could ensure that, he would be safe. He’d be _free._ And so, as the conversation moved on without him into lighter topics, he allowed himself a small smile. Already, this ship was starting to feel like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter to date, clocking at 2510 words!


	7. Drills - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ten years is a long time to make up for.

The training sessions Access had carved out for himself were all at once easier and harder to deal with than expected. The issue he had most worried about - his siblings noting his absences and trying to pry - was basically non-existent. Kix had asked him once, and that was it, accepting his explanation of needing some time to himself.

He wasn’t even the only one catching some extra training. Sometimes he’d catch other clones training alongside a squad they weren’t apart of when he passed by, either participating in an exercise or simply using the equipment while they were in the room.

But the training itself was a mess almost as soon as he attempted it. The equipment was one thing, using the borrowed droid as a spotter as he struggled to build up his strength. As a Null he may technically have had an edge over his siblings in that respect, but currently the gap between them was enough to drive him to frustration. He just didn’t match up. Not with ten years hooked up to a city. But at least it was easy enough to understand the gist of.

The other types of training… It was stumbling to snap to attention every time the droid called out a commanding officer was on deck, it was his currently poor reflexes when it - absolutely not built for sparring but trying its best regardless - took an unexpected swipe at him. It was target practice, Access cursing in every language he could think of as he missed again and again and again. He didn’t know how to fight. The theory was sound; he knew what he had to do, and technically how to do it, but making his body do it…

He threw the gun to the ground after yet another miss and hissed angry Mando’a at it. He should be better at this. His batchmates were the most feared troopers in the entire army, and here he was, unable to hit a target his squad would have been able to shoot down in an instant. Unable to take down a droid that wasn’t even built for hand to hand combat.

His first training exercise with his squad was coming up, and he wasn’t going to be prepared for it.

After that would be missions, Jedi General or not, and Access would be just as useless as he had been on Geonosis. And useless troopers…

He didn’t want to think about it.

But his slot was up, and he quietly dismissed the droid as he picked up his gun with a sigh. Now was the hardest part, he’d come to learn. Returning the gun to the armoury was a walk in the park, but after that? Came the showers.

Showers were not a problem Access had anticipated. Back on Kamino, as invasive as it was, his creators had handled all of that for him. But now, sweaty from exertion and facing pillows thrown at him if he went back without a wash, he had to face the obstacle of trying to find a time when the communal showers were _not_ full of siblings. His cybernetics may have been waterproof - it would’ve been foolish for them _not_ to be on a place like Kamino - but prying eyes would quickly find the flashes of metal, and then it would be over. Problem was, there was always _someone_.

Even now, there were a couple of troopers in there, Access pulling a face and backing out before they could see him. He’d just have to wait, then. Or resort again to the same method he’d been using these past couple of days: fill up a bucket with water, steal some soap, and just spot scrub back in his hideaway best he could.

But, this time patience paid off: the troopers left - smacking each other with their wet towels on their way out, laughing - and Access cautiously took his chance.

It was when he’d finished and was toweling himself off that he passed by a mirror and stopped in surprise.

Access had never seen his own face before. He had seen his reflection a million times in his siblings, sure. Known what he _should_ look like, the standard so stark and plain to see. But actually seeing _himself?_ Not even back on Kamino. It had been a luxury not afforded to an Access Point.

But here, there were mirrors. Here, the startling glimpse of blue in the corner of his vision caught his eye, and he found himself approaching the reflective surface. Nothing should be out of the ordinary. Not when the Kaminoans made sure their perfect computer was always up to regulation standards. But...

His eyes were a startling, almost _unnatural_ shade of _blue_.

Access knew, of course, that genetic drift existed in his siblings. There were clones with blonde hair, silver hair, even blue eyes too- But not like this. Not such a bright shade. He could’ve sworn, looking so closely, that there was something there- Something of his cybernetics, even there. And now so close, undressed as he was, it was hard to miss the scars. Around his neck, his head- They were old, and so faint, and he wouldn’t doubt that more were hidden by his hair. But to someone who knew what they were looking for, his additions were _blatant._

But his siblings hadn’t said a word. They had seen the blue, and shrugged it off. Maybe they thought it was natural, maybe they didn’t. Without knowing what they were looking for, that’s all they’d seen. And they had accepted it without a second thought.

He was just zipping back up, still processing the implications, when Denal came in, Rex in tow, chatting. But that didn’t stop Denal from brightening when he saw Access and pulling Rex over with him. “Access! How’ve you been settling in?”

Force, the Captain was _right there._ “Uh- Alright. No hitches, anyway.”

“Good! Access, this is Rex. Rex, Access is in Dawn Squad, but he’s a friend of mine.”

Rex nodded; a contrast to Denal so at ease, he was still standing in something resembling a loose parade rest. But all the same, he offered his hand for Access to shake. No matter how nerve-wracking it was, Access couldn’t turn him down. “Denal’s told me you’re a gifted slicer.”

If only he knew even half of it. “I mean, I like to think I’m alright…”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your work in action. You have a drill set for tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah. Bright and early.” A drill Access knew would go to _hell_. He just hoped that the hovering sense of panic that shrouded it didn’t show on his face.

They didn’t seem to notice any, at least. Not with Denal’s grin and suggestion of, “Maybe we’ll come down and watch then.”

“Of course.” Access forced a smile. “That’d be great.”

Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of his life.

~~~

The morning came far too soon for Access’ liking.

He was up with his siblings at the simulated crack of dawn, slipping into armour alongside them. They were eager to get going, the chatter quiet but eager as the triplets helped each other check their weapons, and as Kix fussed over 97. They were looking forward to this after days of inactivity.

Access was not.

He had improved, he admitted. He had been getting stronger, getting better. But it had been a slow process. He still didn’t match up to his siblings. And now?

Now they would find out.

He fell into line behind them as they filed out, wondering for a brief, wild moment if he could just vanish into the ship and never return. Erase his room from the ship’s maps and set up there permanently.

But no. His squad would notice, they would worry. They would search for him and find him. And even if they couldn’t, he would have to re-emerge eventually, to eat, to cut his hair, to do _something._ And then they would notice him, just for his height. He would be caught.

There was only one way to go. Forward. Even if it felt like he was marching straight into disaster.

The training room floor was already set up for them when they arrived, obstacles in place. Access already knew how this would go, even before Hez announced it to them; being the Access Point had its perks, and he’d made sure to do his research. They would split up into two teams, weapons set to stun, and try to ‘eliminate’ the other. Simple enough, but it would get them to work together. Access could admire it, he just wished he wasn’t participating in it.

And there was Denal, showing up as promised. No Captain at his side this time, but he looked eager to see the exercise regardless.

Access felt like crawling into a hole and never coming out.

Thankfully, 97 was at his side for this, and Kix too. It didn’t give him any confidence, but- They’d wanted him on their side. That had to count for something.

Hez let them get prepared; one side - Access’ - would be entrenched with the ‘superior’ position behind some of the makeshift obstacles, but they had less troops. They just had to find the best places to actually hole up, and make a plan. Kix - and surprisingly 97 - were already on it. Access just left them to it, listening in and committing it to heart as best he could, Attie on his left doing the same.

With the signal given, the game was on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally the eyes part was in the last chapter, but it felt kind of clunky so I rearranged things.
> 
> No editing was done (I don't usually), we die like men.


	8. Drills - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lack of training is a dangerous thing.

On the other side of the training room floor, the other members of the squad instantly burst into action. Using the obstacles to their advantage, they ducked from hiding spot to hiding spot, avoiding the suppressing fire Attie was happily putting down.

And as they tried to avoid Attie’s raking fire, 97 - always a crack shot - was taking advantage of the opportunity to try to pick them off more individually, using her as a distraction. He got Ridge in almost record time, the trooper yelping as he thudded to the ground from the stun bolt. One of the triplets - 50, Access thought, who’d recently decided they weren’t going along with the binary options of gender at all - only barely ducked away from another shot as they pulled their ‘wounded’ brother to safety.

Access was, technically, supposed to be assisting Kix in getting the drop on their remaining opponents. And he _was_ following behind the medic, blaster gripped tightly in his hands. But he knew as soon as they actually engaged their opponents, he wouldn’t _just_ falter and fail.

He would let his siblings down, and that was even worse.

Access cursed in surprise as a bolt of blaster fire skimmed over his head to impact on the wall behind him, Kix dragging him down just before he could be hit. “Stay _sharp,_ Access.”

His mouth felt dry. “Sorry.”

Kix led them between the obstacles, darting and dodging; that, at least, Access could keep up with. And with them currently all still in white, it was easy to mistake one set of armour for another. 97 and Attie were doing their jobs, and doing it well, while Kix and Access became just another sight of enemy white.

Kix paused, signaling for Access to stop. “Okay. They’re just around the corner. Ready?”

Access swallowed, gripping his blaster tighter. He wasn’t ready. “Ready.”

Kix stood still, waiting, waiting… And then the signal. _“Now!”_

Together they jumped out from behind their cover, Kix opening fire, Access a second behind him. He knew _how_ to shoot, but he knew it was going wide- Even trying to avoid Kix, he knew some were dangerously close to the medic. And none were hitting their opponents, either.

But Kix hit Flash, the stun bolt flying true, before her batchmates even had time to react, to scramble into cover and start shooting back. Again, 50 pulled their fallen sibling out of the line of fire, stubbornly protective to almost a fault. Access almost hit them. Almost.

The battlefield shifted, in a sense; with Hez and the remaining opponents caught between the four of them, 97 and Attie began to move up, closing the distance. Boxing them in, just like they’d been taught, and carrying Access with them.

It put them all a little too close quarters for Access’ liking.

He just had to pray nobody noticed how terrible his aim really was, to hope they assumed he was merely laying down cover fire like Attie was so much better at.

They had their opponents up against the metaphorical wall, and 97 was getting a little cocky- He was their best shot, and yet he was almost too close for that to be any use. Kix was barking at him sharply over the comms, trying to get him to pull back. Even far better trained, hubris was apparently a constant danger.

Hez was calling for his remaining troopers to form ranks, to set themselves up to snipe out their enemies- But it was three against four now, and Kix had somehow outsmarted their sergeant. They were cornered.

Somehow, it all reminded him just a little too much of Geonosis. Somewhere, in the back of Access’ mind, he thought he could still hear the screaming.

But he took a deep breath, trying to keep his hands from shaking, to keep the memories back in the box he’d shoved them into. And took another shot.

As usual, it went off course, nowhere near his target. Unlike before, there was white armour in the way, taking the stun blast full force and crumpling from the impact.

It wasn’t an opponent.

It was 97.

Access’ blaster clattered to the floor.

He had shot a _brother_. And everyone had seen.

Kix turned to him, sharp and disbelieving, but Access couldn’t hear what he was saying, couldn’t tell if he was saying anything at all. All he could hear was the clatter of armour as 97 fell, over and over.

He had shot a brother.

If this had been a real fight, a real battle, he would have _killed_ a brother. If he had slipped up, if he hadn’t checked his blaster’s power settings, 97 would be nothing but a corpse on the floor.

Dimly, as if it was happening far away, he was aware of the drill coming to a stop, blasters lowered, the sounds of stun blasts fading to nothing. Somebody - Attie? - went to 97’s side, checking him over.

They were all looking at him. Staring at him- Access, whose aim was so bad he had shot another clone trooper - _his own squad mate_ \- in the back. _Denal_ was staring at him.

Kix was closer now, reaching out to touch him, but Access still couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t look at him. His hands were shaking, and his breath was coming sharp, fast- He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe_.

They would find out. They would ask questions, they would wonder why a trooper couldn’t shoot or fight or match his siblings to save his Force-damned life- They would see him as an outsider, the trooper who shot his own.

They would send him back to Kamino.

Right back to the leash and cage.

And all his thoughts were capable of screaming at him, offering no help, no way out, was _he could have killed one of his best friends._

Kix put his hand on Access’ shoulder.

Instinct and impulse reacted, and Access panicked. Preservation was the only thing in his mind, sharp and afraid, and he _shoved_ Kix. Pushing him away as instinct searched out the exit, as instinct fueled a run that tore away from the group and out the door. Gone, before anyone could stop him, leaving their stunned gazes in the dust.

His steps would lead him back to the only place he felt safe, in the end.

Because for an Access Point, the systems were the only thing that couldn’t hand him back to his captors.

For an Access Point, the systems were the only thing he could trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was HELL to write. Training/fight scenes are my kryptonite.


	9. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kix has a problem. Unfortunately, that problem is Access.

Kix was on his last, fraying nerve.

Really, he should have realized something was wrong with the squad’s slicer a long time ago. Ever since meeting Access, he’d been… Weird, jumpy- And he’d been favouring his side a little too much when they’d first met.

Kix had brushed it off at the time. The records all showed that he’d gone in and gotten things seen to, after all.

Turns out, Access was infuriatingly good at _faking_ those records.

After the incident on the training room floor, Kix had been worried for his brother; that had obviously been an intense panic attack, and when Access returned he skirted around them if he could. Avoiding them like they were the Force-damned Blue Shadow virus, almost as if he was afraid of them. Kix didn’t blame him. Back on Kamino, something like that would have doomed a clone for sure.

But this wasn’t Kamino, and Kix was determined to take care of _all_ his siblings. He’d managed to take Access off the roster for further drills until Kix had gotten a chance to see to him…

And then it had popped up in the medical files that he’d already been. Right in the midst of him avoiding Kix even more intensely than the rest of the squad. It was odd, and discussing it with the other medics only confirmed his suspicions: the slicer had never _been_ in medbay.

In fact, there was a good chance he hadn’t even gotten seen to after _Geonosis_.

If Kix hadn’t shaved his hair down at the first available opportunity, he would’ve been pulling it out in frustration.

Of course, he’d tried to approach Access about this, to demand answers as to why his squad-mate had _refused_ medical attention even with an injury. He _knew_ the other trooper had been hurt; he definitely hadn’t imagined the way Access had held his side that first week.

Access had responded in turn by being impossible to find.

Kix didn’t know how he did it. He seemed to have an almost uncanny knowledge of Kix’s shifts, always disappearing whenever Kix actually had a chance to go track him down. He’d even tried to send 97 - now Jesse, name finally picked - after him, to no avail. Not even Sergeant Hez or their Force-damned lieutenant seemed to be able to track him down whenever their slicer didn’t want to be found.

At some point, Kix had even resorted to trying to use the security feeds. The bastard only responded by vanishing from them, cameras looped here and there to hide his movements. If it had been any other situation, Kix would’ve been impressed by how skilled Access was. Instead, their gifted slicer was going to drive him _crazy_ if this didn’t let up.

Kix didn’t even understand _why_ Access would want to avoid medical.

But… Access was the last of his squad, wasn’t he? He’d been in the medbay a long time, tended to by Kaminoans who could have cut his life support the very second they decided his life was a waste of their time and resources. They wouldn’t have cared for his comfort, or whether he could hear them talk about reconditioning- That would be enough to traumatize any brother.

But Kix was a _sibling,_ not a Kaminoan. Couldn’t Access trust a brother?

Apparently not, if this was anything to go by. Kix cursed, slamming a hand against the metal panel as Access disappeared _once again_ from the feeds, making the shiny in charge of watching it jump. Kix muttered an apology.

He felt like he was missing something. Some piece of the puzzle.

“...Trooper, is there a pattern as to _where_ he disappears?”

The shiny - looking rather relieved that Kix wasn’t going to hit the control panel again - shrugged but began typing. “Maybe, sir. Let me see if it can find one for us…”

A last click, and a map of the ship popped up. Slowly, red filled in, outlining the rough areas where Access went missing. One was deeper into the maintenance areas of the ship - a good enough place to hide from a medic as any, Kix supposed - but curiously, the other area was around the training halls. In fact, one in particular.

“When does he go off the grid for that area?” he asked, pointing it out to the shiny.

“Uhhh… I can find out? Let me bring it up for you.”

More typing, and the times flicked up onto the screen. Kix blinked. That particular training room was closed in particular at those times- Jesse had complained about it occasionally. Access was disappearing into an area that was supposed to be closed… And he was very good at faking records.

“...Thanks, trooper. You’ve been a great help.”

“Any time, sir.”

So, armed with this new information, Kix turned and left the security hub, determination in every step. He had a slicer to track down. And now he knew exactly where to find him.

* * *

Access hit the target.

Before the incident, this would’ve been cause for celebration, a moment to leap up and cheer on his progress. But now, the sound of Jesse hitting the ground replayed over and over in his mind, and Access just grit his teeth and took another shot. Another hit.

Being barred from the drills with the others had afforded him one advantage: it gave him more time to practice, and he could tell he was improving at a far steadier rate now. It just wasn’t enough, not to blur out the memory of all of them staring at him, all of them knowing him as the trooper who shot his own squad-mate in the back.

It might never be enough.

Jesse fell again behind his eyes, and he took another shot. This time, when it missed, he couldn’t even muster up the energy to curse at it.

And now Kix just wouldn’t leave him alone.

Bad enough that he thought he could feel eyes on him, every time he stepped into place beside his siblings. They’d asked if he was okay, that first time he’d returned to them. He’d said he was fine, but even he could tell the way he forced it was evident in his voice.

(Something afraid in him wondered if they’d just asked it out of courtesy.)

But the medic? Trying to shadow his every step, to drag him back to medbay? That was much, much worse. If Kix knew, they’d all know. Kix would peel him out of his armour and find out he wasn’t even meant for the battlefield, find out there was metal beneath his skin, and then he would be sent back.

Access knew, to some extent, that his mind was running in circles. Just digging itself a bigger pit of fear. But the chance it could be _true_ kept the thoughts from dying out.

He lined his blaster up to take yet another shot, finger on the trigger- And there was the quiet _swish_ of the door opening behind him.

He startled, and squeezed the trigger. A bullseye, but not one to be proud of, not when he was whirling around and staring at the blue-marked armour of Kix standing in the doorway. Staring at him, taking in the entire set-up.

“...Access, what are you doing?”

  
Well, _shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are happening now!


	10. Reveal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A medic is not so easily dissuaded.

Kix stared at the sight in front of him. Access, fully armoured - when had Kix ever seen him out of armour, for that matter? - blaster in hand. The training room floor was set up for simple training, not drills; the targets in front of Access had a lot of misses, scorch marks colouring the walls, and the exercise machines were only half put away. There was even a training mat set up, upon which a medical droid that looked ready for the trash chute was waiting patiently.

The schedule had shown this room was booked at the exact same time, every two days, nearly since they’d arrived aboard the _Resolute._ Had Access been doing this the entire time?

“...Access, what are you doing?”

Access just stared back, frozen, _afraid._ He looked like a cadet just threatened with reconditioning, not a trooper caught training off-hours.

And he was training alone. If Kix hadn’t been so sure Access had been doing this _before_ the squad’s first drill, he would’ve thought _that_ was the reason for all this.

“Access, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” came the sharp, forced reply. Access turned back to his firing range, taking another shot- Cursing at the miss.

Kix only felt more concerned. Had something on Geonosis harmed their slicer’s aim? He crossed his arms. “Now _that’s_ a likely story. I’ve been trying to hunt you down for _days,_ Access. And while your slicing is real impressive, you _need_ a checkup.”

“I’m _fine.”_ Another shot. Another miss.

Kix pursed his lips into a thin line. “Don’t make me pull rank on you. As a medic, it is _perfectly_ within my power to haul your ass down to medbay whether you want it or not.”

“I just slipped up. It’s fine.”

“...Access, I know you didn’t get looked at after Geonosis.”

Access froze, finger halfway to the trigger.

Kix sighed, but didn’t stop there. “You’re a gifted slicer, I’ll give you that. But you can’t keep avoiding the medbay forever. I get that you probably didn’t have a good time with medbay after that accident, but… I’m your _vod,_ Access. You can trust me.”

Slowly, Access lowered his blaster. “...Can I?” It was so… Defeated sounding, giving in. Like suddenly, all the hope had been sucked out of him. “Can I _really?”_

Kix blinked at him, staring in shock. For a second he couldn’t respond - what had Access _experienced,_ to make him say that? - but he shook his head. If there wasn’t trust, then he’d have to forge it. “I’m a medic, Access. My whole life, I’ve trained to _save_ lives, not hurt them- And that doesn’t just mean physically. If it’s something about medbay, I can clear the others out. Just you and me.”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality?”

Kix blinked again. “What?”

Access turned, his entire body tense and taut. A coiled spring, a cornered nexu; it worried Kix a lot. “It’s something civilian doctors are bound to. They can’t tell anybody about what a patient tells them, unless it endangers somebody else. _Anybody._ I want that too, as _well_ as nobody else.”

... Well, it was a small price to pay for getting Access to medbay. “Alright, I promise. Let’s go.”

And with that, Kix called ahead. If Access needed the medbay empty, it’d be empty. As long as he could help his brother.

* * *

So this was it. The beginning of the end. Behind his helmet, where no one could see, Access closed his eyes and tried not to shake. Kix was at his side, hand gently grasping his wrist; he didn’t drag, didn’t pull too hard, but Access was sure he would if he had to.

He’d done his best, but… There was no getting out of it. Not this time. Running would only bring more eyes.

He took a deep, shuddering breath, and let Kix lead him through the halls, trying to ignore the look of concern the medic shot him.

Access tried not to think about what would come after. He was afraid to even consider the response- What would the medic think, finding the metal patches that dotted Access’ skin? Never mind the fact he would find out Access had _lied,_ and that CT-2757’s ashes were likely scattered into the Kaminoan sea. Access wasn’t even sure he’d forgiven _himself_ for that.

That betrayal alone might be enough to send him back to Kamino.

The pit of dread in his stomach was a yawning void now, clawing at the rest of him with vicious tenacity. It felt like he was teetering on the edge all over again.

They were getting closer now, past other troopers. But as they reached the medbay, it got quieter; Kix had kept his word, and it lay empty and quiet. A luxury Access knew they probably wouldn’t have the longer the war waged on, and the more the wounded piled up.

Kix took a moment to close the door behind them, giving them that privacy Access had demanded, and he took that moment to find a bed to sit on. He couldn’t help but squirm uncomfortably, curling in on himself a little. The worst part of this was the waiting; the end felt _inevitable,_ but every second in between seemed to stretch into an agonizing eternity. He almost wished Kix would just get it over with.

And yet it still felt all too soon that wish was answered, as Kix drew back to Access’ side. “Now I’m just going to give you a standard checkup, I promise. Vitals first, then I’ll need you out of your armour.”

Access nodded stiffly. The vitals were easy enough, not even requiring him to move; Kix merely slowly passed the mediscanner over him. He just had to hope it didn’t pick up-

But Kix paused, frowning. “...That’s odd. Your vitals seem to be fine, but the mediscanner’s picking up an anomaly.”

Just his luck. Just his _kriffing_ luck.

* * *

Kix wasn’t sure what he was seeing. Mediscanners really only provided basic information about a patient’s vitals - they were no match for a medic’s trained eye - but this information just didn’t make sense. It was picking up electronic interference. Maybe it was just badly tuned and picking up the surrounding medical equipment, but…

The way Access _tensed_ at him mentioning it said that wasn’t the case.

Kix didn’t understand. What could Access be hiding?

Aware of his brother’s eyes on him, Kix tried to keep his voice slow and gentle. He didn’t want to set Access off more than needed. “...Access, I’m going to need you to take your upper armour off for me, okay? I can help, if you want.”

“Don’t _touch_ me,” Access almost snapped. For a moment, he didn’t move, as if he was frozen with that fear that was so clearly written into every tense part of him. But, deliberately slowly… He began taking pieces off, discarding them methodically into a small pile next to him.

He was clearly dragging this out longer than needed, but Kix could wait. Finally, he took off his helmet and set it atop of the small pile, looking uncomfortable. And watching the exits carefully. He still looked cornered, and Kix didn’t want to know what could happen if he made the wrong move.

...Notably, Access was thin, to the point you could tell it even through the undersuit. Not from lack of food, but- Muscle was ill-defined, more so than Kix had expected. Something very, very _weird_ was going on, and Kix could feel Access’ unnaturally blue eyes on him the whole time, watching him like a shriek-hawk.

But he had to stay calm, to calm down his brother in turn.

“See _vod,_ I’m not doing anything. You’re safe here. I need you to unzip the top part of your undersuit now, okay?”

Access scoffed at his reassurance, and for one odd moment Kix remembered an instance back during training: a lone trooper in a stand-off with a Kaminoan, practically ignoring the scolding. A Null ARC, Kix had learned later; Access, just for that second, had looked exactly the same.

But slowly - nervously - he began unzipping his undersuit. As skin was revealed, Kix expected to see burns, deep scars from the grenade accident that had claimed Access’ whole squad.

There were no burns.

Instead, what he saw nearly made Kix drop his mediscanner in shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Kix suddenly becoming a secondary central character? I planned on it being Denal, dammit.
> 
> Also for the people who keep commenting: I love you, never stop.


	11. Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kix hears the truth, and Access needs a hug.

The mediscanner fell to the floor with a clatter, Access flinching at the sound, at Kix’s gaze - shocked, uncomprehending - on exposed metal. He couldn’t help the way he curled into himself, away from the medic and his staring. But he couldn’t hide, not here. Not like this. All he could do was brace for the questions.

Brace for the consequences.

“Access… What _is_ this? Who _did this_ to you?”

Now, with the secret out, Access couldn’t help his visible cringe away from those words. It was all horrified, protective anger, but then it would be, wouldn’t it? His siblings were bred to kill droids, and here Access was, practically halfway there.

“...Vod, is this what you’ve been hiding? Why isn’t this in your file-?” And then, the look of dawning realization in Kix’s eyes that Access had to fight not to laugh at; he _knew_ that train of thought wasn’t quite on the right track. “...The Kaminoans did this, didn’t they. They took that time you were stuck in medbay and-”

Oh, now he can’t hold it back. It’s a shaky, hiccuping thing, this laugh that escapes him, half-hysterical no matter how much Access tries to keep the defeat and the fear out of it. Kix stares at him, and suddenly he has to fight to hold back tears.

He’s a clone trooper, a soldier of the Republic, and here he is nearly fucking crying.

“It wasn’t in the file because it’s _not my kriffing file.”_

Force, that look of concerned, alarmed confusion on Kix’s face only serves to make this harder. “...What?”

Access takes a shuddering breath, shoulders shaking no matter how hard he tries to stop it. His mouth is dry, and the words nearly stick in his throat. “You said it yourself, Kix: I am… An _exceptional_ ‘slicer’...”

But Kix doesn’t recoil- Just frowns, kneeling down beside the medical bed so he’s closer to Access’ level. That stupid kriffing _concern_ won’t leave his face. “Access… Could you help me understand? Are you saying you’re _not_ CT-2757?”

  
  
“2757 is _dead.”_ It comes out as half a hiss, the other half a strangled sob.”I- I knew he wasn’t likely to make it, and-” Access shook his head, leaning away from the medic.

Kix’s frown deepens, and Access nearly finches away again. Somehow he keeps his voice level when he speaks again, and Access _hates_ it; how can he tell what the medic is feeling - what he’s going to do next - if he just sounds _calm?_ “...And you took his place. Why? Is it to do with these implants, Access?”

“You- You could say that.” He looks away - unable to bear looking Kix in the eye, not now - and mutters, “...You’re right about the Kaminoans being responsible.”

Kix nodded slowly, an indication to keep going, as he leaned over to grab a chair and pulled it over. Sitting in it, he leaned towards Access, that frown of his intermixed with concerned interest. He didn’t say anything more, just… Waited. That was almost worse than him asking more questions, and Access had to fight to keep himself from squirming with discomfort.

But he took a deep, shaky breath, trying to rein in his own frantic emotions. Breaking apart in front of the medic wouldn’t help, no matter how much he wanted to burst into tears and run right then and there. If he ran and hid, Kix would already know too much. Kix would find him.

“...How often did you get to use the intranet on Kamino, Kix?”

Kix raised a brow, probably wondering where this was going, but shrugged a little. “A fair amount. We had to learn to keep track of the medical records, how to update them…”

  
  
“I know. And sometimes you’d get handed troopers as field tests.” Access swallowed. “Sometimes without a Kaminoan telling you.”

“...Yeah? You heard that from another medic?”

“Not… Exactly. But sometimes the Kaminoans would be surprised that you got somebody at all, right?”

“Yeah- Access, why are you asking me this?”

“I’m getting to it!” He ran a hand through his hair, anxiety spiking within him, trying to take those few breaths more to calm himself back down enough to speak. Kix, Force bless him, at least gave him that. “Kix… Do you remember what the intranet was called?”

Kix sighs with all the exasperation of a well-trained medic. “ _Every_ trooper knows its name, Access. The Kaminoans called it the Access Point; cadets used to say if you asked it, sometimes it would…” Kix paused, eyes widening; the dawning comprehension was crystal clear, and this time Access _knew_ he had grasped the truth. Slowly Kix leaned back, staring at the ceiling, whispering softly, “...Sometimes it would help you out. _Kriff._ You… You’re not saying _you’re-”_

“I _am_ saying.” It had taken every ounce of his courage to say, every ounce of his willpower. But he _knew_ Kix would have discovered the full story regardless. And now Access’ secret was out. “I _am_ the Access Point. That’s why I pretended to be somebody else. That’s why I can’t- I can’t shoot, I can’t _fight-”_ Now tears really are brimming in his eyes, and now Access can’t blink them back. Now, they drip down his face. Now, he just lets them. “That’s why I shot Jesse. I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

But before Access can really make himself react, Kix is pushing himself out of his seat, and putting his arms around him. Access _freezes-_ But Kix doesn’t move away. Instead, his voice is firm and comforting in Access’ ear, rubbing his siblings’ back as he does so, “That’s not your fault. _None_ of that is your fault. You haven’t been trained this _whole time?”_

Access can’t respond; it’s like his voice refuses to cooperate, mouth refusing to open. He settles for numbly shaking his head, letting the tears still drip down onto his face. Kix is hugging him. _Kix is hugging him._

“Those _fucking Kaminoans-”_ There’s such anger in the tone, and Access is surprised to find it isn’t for him. “These cybernetics… They hooked you up to the computer system?”

A nod, and Access tentatively presses back into Kix’s comforting presence. When his voice returns enough to respond, it’s soft and unsteady, but somehow Access feels like Kix won’t mind. Somehow, Access feels like this isn’t the end after all. “...I’ve hooked up to the _Resolute._ Few times now.”

_“Kriff._ You’re not a slicer at all, are you? You’re just…” Kix shakes his head and almost laughs there, holding onto Access a little tighter- Before seeming to realize something, letting go enough to lean back and look Access in the eye. “You spent ten years without seeing a single sibling?”

“No- No, I used the cameras…”

“Not the same. Kriff- No wonder you lock up whenever somebody touches you. Is this too much? Do you want me to let go?”

“No! No, no, it’s… It’s nice. Weird, but- Nice.”

Kix smiles with relief, and Access feels his anxiety melt away just a little bit more. He sighs, rubbing Access’ shoulder, inspecting the closest patch of exposed metal. “...No wonder you’ve been avoiding the medbay. Force, no wonder you didn’t _trust_ any of us; you’ve never even _met_ a sibling.”

“...You’re not going to send me back?” It was such a small, fragile hope that Access offered there, knowing the worry showed on his face.

_“What!?_ No way. They hurt you, and _nobody_ is sending them back to you. Not under my watch. The rest of the company will back me.”

Access smiled, relief flooding his entire being- Until the full sentence registered, and panic slipped into place once more. “No. _No._ You can’t tell anybody else. You promised.”

“Access, nobody would hand you back to the-”

“But what if word gets out!? There’s not just clones aboard! There’s natborn admirals, there’s going to be a Jedi- And if anybody let’s it slip outside the company, how many people could _know?_ The Kaminoans would find out, and then-”

Kix grabbed his shoulders. “Access, look at me.” His bright blue met Kix’s dark brown, and only when Access had taken a few gasping, still half-panicked breaths - a faltering first step to calming down - did Kix continue, “I won’t tell anybody if you don’t want me to. I still think it would be a good idea to at least let the Lieutenants and the Captain know, but if you don’t want to… Then it’s fine. I won’t. I promise.”

Access took another shuddering breath, and let himself droop, head coming to rest against Kix’s chest. “...Okay. Okay. I’m just… I’m just scared.”

Kix sighed, and brought a hand to his brother’s hair, running gloved fingers through it soothingly. “I know, Access. It’s okay, we’ll figure it out. That’s what I’m here for.”

Slowly, so slowly, Access let his eyes close, let the fear and the anxiety flow out of him. Just for the moment. Despite everything, Kix was on his side. Everything had turned out okay.

Everything would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why this was such a pain to write????
> 
> But now I've actually gotten to writing, there's already part of the next chapter down...


End file.
